


Healing Touch

by riot3672



Series: Maxicest Week [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Day 2, F/M, Healing, Implied/Referenced Incest, Maxicest Week, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Sibling Incest, Twincest, powers, powers/touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riot3672/pseuds/riot3672
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maxicest Week, Day 2: Powers/Touch</p>
<p>Pietro Maximoff Syndrome (PMS) is at its height again, and Pietro just happens to be on a stakeout this time. Can he keep it together long enough to fall into Wanda's arms? Probably not, but he's gonna try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Touch

Some days, Pietro hated his powers. Hating them was only half the battle though; the other half remained convincing everyone around him that he wasn’t a complete asshole. More than half the time, he failed miserably. 

It was something stupid, a stakeout or something. Steve had signed them all up for lesser jobs to do between saving the world from aliens, evil robots, and Thor’s emotionally unstable brother. The particular mission was making some kind of ransom exchange for a world leader’s son. Naturally, they trusted Steve and Natasha with the job. The person whom Pietro still could not fathom a place in the mission was him. First of all, they’d ignored his specific request to not be separated from Wanda on missions. 

“Why am I here again?” Pietro muttered just loud enough for them to hear as they started their wait. The drop off was to take place in half an hour. 

“Fury likes us having yours or Wanda’s skill sets for most missions now,” Natasha answered.

In other words, “We gotta bring along an enhanced.” The token enhanced one.

“I hate to say it, but Vision and Wanda are a million times less misanthropic than me.”

“Vision’s with Thor and isn’t your sister sick?”

On her period. She’d just said sick to avoid water training that day. Lucky bastard.

Steve decided the best solution to Pietro’s orneriness was to put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you don’t like waiting, but this’ll be over quick. They don’t want the kid.”

Pietro eyed the suitcase Fury had given them to give for some five-year-old. Amazing how human life could be quantified like that. Assuming this kid lived, would he one day ask his parents how much they paid for him and get mad because it wasn’t nearly enough? Would he wonder if there was a limit on his life? _A billion dollars? Too much! Sorry junior, meet your new parents!_

Pietro glanced at his watch.

It’s been five minutes.

Without anything to punch without being either stabbed in the nuts or given a hearty lecture about patience, Pietro settled for digging his nails into the grass.

“Jesus, Pietro, do we need to give your Benadryl before every mission?” Natasha said. 

“Horse tranquilizer would be the only thing that’d work,” Pietro mumbled.

They never asked. They never asked why this was so infuriating for him. They asked Wanda about what it was like having her powers all the time, but no one wanted to ask the asshole why he was such a pain to work with. 

Minutes dragged by. Pietro slipped into a state of agitation, unable to stop twitching and fidgeting. He went through at least four mini crescendos where he wasn’t so confident he wasn’t going to have a panic attack standing in an abandoned park waiting for a group of terrorists. Natasha’s solution to him getting particularly wound up was to spray him with a water bottle, like he was some hyperactive dog. 

Finally, fucking finally, the terrorists came out, walking a scared little kid with them. They got within a couple dozen yards.

“Where’s the money?” the main guy said.

Steve held up the suitcase, and one of the thugs approached. Steve opened it, let the guy examine the bills. The thug gave the main guy a signal.

The thug walked back to the group. Why hadn’t he taken the money?

“We need one more confirmation from our associate,” the main guy said.

What?

“How long?” Pietro found himself shouting back.

Steve and Natasha looked to him in horror.

“Within the minute. Calm down, punk.”

Pietro crossed his arms and practiced the breathing Wanda had been showing him. He thought about Wanda and how in less than an hour he could be back with her. He’d go to the gym, punch the living shit out of the punching bag, and go hang out with Wanda. He could forget this ever happened.  

God, now everyone was starting to run in slow motion. He needed to get a grip. He refused to fuck this up. 

His chest tightened. He could feel the adrenaline edging to explode, like the anti-orgasm that was his new life. _Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm._

He looked at his watch. It’d been more than a minute. Pietro’s breathing went from controlled meditation to barely contained snorts. 

“The freak okay?” one of the thugs said.

His vision went red.

Steve put a hand on his shoulder again.  

“My associate says another ten,” the main guy said after looking at his phone.

ENOUGH.

Pietro picked up the suitcase, ran full speed at the terrorists, picked up the kid with one arm and pummeled the main guy with the suitcase on his turn around, leaving the suitcase with them.

He didn’t stop for Natasha and Steve.

#

_You idiot do you know what you could’ve done it doesn’t matter that it worked you can never I’m never taking you on another mission again._

They never asked why.

By the time he reached his and Wanda’s bedroom, he swore he was the one who was sick. He still felt agitated without being pissed at Steve and Natasha and the Avengers and Strucker and the world.

Wanda sat up, put down her book as he answered.

“Oh, ‘tro, I’m sorry,” she said as he dumped his body next to her.

He wiggled closer to her, and she wrapped her arms around him. “They never ask why. It’s like they don’t think these powers do anything to me. God, Wanda, I was never a saint, but I never used to be this difficult. I don’t want them to think I’m so horrible to work with. I know they all favorite you. Like they don’t even – ”

She ran her hand through his hair. “Shh. They’re the ones being assholes. They should have realized that it’s not you that’s the problem.”

He nuzzled into her chest. “You know, at least.”

“I do. And I still love you. C'mon, get out of my boobs.”

He shifted over to give a few inches between them. She crawled so she was above his head. 

“You did good today, Pietro. They just need a lesson in empathy,” Wanda said.

He saw her hexes glow out of the corner of his eye, felt their warmth as they touched his temples.

His mind slowed back down.

 

 


End file.
